The Pastry Chef and the Phylactery
by MrsAlderaan
Summary: He visits her bakery every day, pulled there by a call that he can't explain. The long lived wizard, searching for his lost love.


**A/N:**

 **IMPORTANT TRIGGER WARNING**

 **This story contains non-graphic depictions of domestic violence and non-consensual sex.**

 **YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED**

 **This story was an idea that one of our group's dungeon masters had wanted to implement in campaign, but has been unable to do so. So, he gave me the idea as a writing prompt for National Novel Writing Month. I hope you enjoy.**

 **All characters are my own. Setting belongs to Wizards of the Coast, and original concept belongs to Lord_Cog.**

* * *

He awoke with a chill as a light draft made its way into his chambers. One hazel eye cracked open, allowing the sights of early morning to assail is senses. The fireplace crackled with a low fire that needed fuel and stoking. He shivered again. Winter was not kind on his old bones, and his discomfort was not aided by his propensity to toss and turn during sleep. Where were his blankets anyway?

The old wizard sat up straight, looking all around until he found his blankets bundled on the floor at the foot of the bed. Curses. They would certainly not be warm enough to roll over and get anymore sleep. He sighed a long suffering sigh that bespoke his many years before slowly stepping out of bed. He threw the blankets on top of his plush mattress and padded over to his wardrobe, dressing himself slowly and methodically in his robes for another day. He grabbed a book, large, leather bound and weathered from years of use off of his nightstand before making his way down the stairs of his stony tower. Once inside the dining area, he was greeted by Donia, his servant, who served him a breakfast of meat and eggs, which he made quick work of whilst preparing his spells.

Once his breakfast and daily preparations were completed, he bid good day to Donia, pulled on a heavy winter coat and stepped out into the brisk winter morning outside. He looked all about as the front doors to his Mighty Fortress opened and saw a dusting of snow upon the ground. He counted himself lucky. The Wealdath forest he resided within was far enough South that the snow never stuck to the ground for long, always melting around midday. It did, however, make his old bones ache in protest.

With yet another huff of exasperation, which made a small fog as the warmth of his breath met the cool air of the Deepwinter morning, the man began to trudge towards town. The journey to Mosstone, although not a necessarily arduous one, was long, and, yet, he made the trip without magical means each day without fail. Years ago, he would've scoffed at the thought, preferring to Teleport or otherwise. Now, his joints nearly demanded it. The activity was the only thing that kept him going, really. Otherwise, he'd slowly deteriorate to nothing. He refused to be counted amongst the other weak and wretched wizards and their ilk who could hardly lift a teacup. No, someone of his pride and stature would remain strong and sturdy for the rest of his days.

So, step by step, boots met cold and muddy earth, towards the town, known as a safe settlement for caravans and other passersby. The sun finally settled above the trees when he arrived in the town, now bustling with activity as merchants and traders from far and wide packed, readying themselves to head towards their destinations.

The lone wizard, however, was in no hurry. Simply allowing the busiest carts to pass before him before crossing stone pathways, eventually stumbling himself all the way to the door of a small bakery, whose sign had long since faded, leaving only a wooden hanging outside in the shape of a croissant. He stomped his boots on the ground outside the door before wiping them on the mat, trying to be courteous of the business's space.

The bell on the door tinkled brightly as it opened and then closed behind him, and he couldn't help the instant intake of breath as the fresh scents of breads and cakes greeted him this day. The building was warm, a welcome reprieve from the grizzly winter outside, and the old man couldn't help but allow a smile to pull his lips upward. He looked all about and found the shop disappointingly empty of both customers and its sole proprietor.

A moment later, a woman with mahogany colored hair pulled up and out of the way with almond shaped amber eyes stumbled into the room from the door behind the counter. She was wearing her usual ensemble, an apron, covered in the ingredients from various confections. Today, she had some flour on her cheek, and the picturesque quality of her visage almost made his long since dead heart beat again. The woman smiled at him warmly before taking out a pair of tongs, which she used to pick a croissant out of the display case for him, placing it on a plate, and doling out a healthy portion of fresh butter to go along with it.

Now, he smiled in earnest. Their morning routine was a long standing one, and the pair no longer required words, not that he would ever need words when it came to her. He knew everything that the was to know about this woman; their destinies were entangled, and it didn't matter how long he lived or how different she was. He would find her.

He carefully, almost reverently, took the plate out of her hands, placing an electrum piece in her palm. As usual, she smiled and tried to refuse his overpayment, but, as usual, he didn't listen to her arguments, instead moving to sit at a small circular table with two chairs flanking either side of it. As he sat down, another customer entered the building, and the man smirked, happy to watch her work for a time. He would never get over how very much the same she moved, compared to her previous incarnation. He remembered everything there was to remember about her, and he could never let his mind forget the way the sunlight glistened against her skin, how fabric would glide against fabric when she stooped down to pick things up, or even the silver bell like quality to her voice when laughter rang out from her. That's how he'd known that he'd found her in this new life once again. Well, of course, there was also the pull that he felt towards her, like an ache that started in his chest but never went away. It was a soul deep ache that he'd never expected to return after she'd passed on all those years ago. He'd expected to die or be killed long before he'd ever felt that familiar pulse, the pull of his very soul once more.

Once the customer had been taken care of, she carefully glid her way over to him, her steps soft and sure on the weathered wooden floors. Sitting across from him like she did every day, he regarded her features with something akin to awe. They were so very much the same. If he hadn't regarded the similarities for at least a dozen seasons, he wouldn't believe it.

She waited patiently as he buttered his croissant as he always did, savoring the first bite, and allowing the pastry to melt in his mouth as his eyes closed involuntarily with pleasure. When his eyes reopened, she regarded him with a smile, but she didn't break their companionable silence. It was like a spell that they could only cast together.

"Thank you for breakfast. It's delicious as always, Arastine." He commented, taking another bite of the delicious pastry.

She blushed prettily, looking down at her hands, which rested in her lap before looking back at him. "You flatter me, Davlanan. Really, you do."

The wizard wiped his face free of crumbs, holding out a hand to stop her. "How many times to I have to say it, woman?" He asked with a frustrated tone and stern expression. "Call me Dav."

She blushed again, shaking her head in the negative. "I suppose you'll have to tell me once more. You see-" Her words ground to a halt before she finally found her tongue again. He was content to wait; it meant that he could spend more time with her. "You see, it is not polite to show such familiarity to one of your stature."

He took one final bite of the croissant, chewing slowly before he decided to speak. He smiled a bitter smile and breathed a sigh. "Now, why, my dear, would you say that?"

"Um, you see, I was at the pub last night, and I spoke with an elvish gentleman. I think he was a druid." She started to explain, but he almost couldn't pay attention. The sheer jealousy that he felt at the thought of her carousing in a bar, speaking with other men… it made him want to kill every last soul that even thought about her as anything besides the town's baker. Before he could go too far down that rabbit hole, though, he turned his eyes up to look at hers, and he remembered that she was telling him a story. He shook himself out of his stupor, hoping that she hadn't noticed his lapse in attention, simply choosing to level her with his steady gaze- a tactic that he'd learned over the years to, at least, feign an attentive look. "...and so I learned that your name, precisely your name, was that of a nobleman from a nearby town several centuries ago. I can't be certain, but… I think that you are descended from royalty."

The wizard fought a smile as well as the urge to laugh. This woman was beautiful, eloquent, forthright, but she was also another thing… intuitive. She had put together a lot of surprising information about him over the last few years of their routine- more than any others had during that same time period, but, she hadn't discerned everything in its entirety. It was only a matter of time. Then, she could be his. They could be together once more.

He wouldn't lose her again.

The old man smirked up at her, and his eyes sparkled with a mischievous light that she wasn't used to seeing every day. "Oh, Arastine, I assure you that, if I were royalty, we would already be wed and living far, far away together. Somewhere warm, with nice beaches. Maybe Chult." He joked.

The woman blushed again; he was very good at making her do that. She fanned herself a bit in order to cool her face before waving him off. "Oh, Dav, you charmer!" She playfully shooed him.

"Arastine?" He inquired seriously, her name like velvet on his lips. He looked at her with all seriousness, taking one of her hands in his own, and rubbing one of his thumbs over her fingers comfortingly. Already, he felt heartache, before he even asked the question. He already knew the answer. It was the same every day. "Come with me. Run away, and I will protect you. Cherish you for the rest of our days."

The woman sighed sadly, looking down and away from the man who was both a friend and regular patron of her shop. "I'm sorry, Dav, but I can't. I'm married. My whole family is here. I won't be leaving on the whim of a wizard that only thinks he knows who I am."

He watched as her thumb fumbled and played with the silver ring that delicately wrapped around her ring finger on her left hand as it did every day, and, like it did every day before, his stomach fell from its place where it had tensely resided somewhere in his chest for a moment of nervous tension. "I understand." He replied, voice low and forlorn. He knew what her answer would be. For years, it had been some iteration of the same. Yet, she never kicked him out of her shop, so he kept hope that, maybe, someday, she would be his. He moved to stand, and the chair he was perched upon squeaked against the floor gratingly. "Thank you, as always, for your time, Mrs. Milner. I'll show myself out."

In three strides, he made his way out of the small bakery, back into the chilling winds of a cold Hammer morning. Having no other business in town, he made his way slowly back towards his home. By the time his Fortress was in sight, the sun was high in the sky. It was noontime, and, after walking so far, he was ready for lunch. He let himself into his domicile, and greeted the ever pleasant Donia, who didn't even have a complaint about the state of his bed this morning. She already had lunch ready, and the wizard smiled, thanking her for her work. He ate heartily before pushing his plate away and rubbing his stomach after he'd finished. He'd likely overeaten. It was worth it.

Finally, he trudged up the stairs of his tower, doffing his woolen coat and sturdy boots before prestidigitating them clean. He hung the coat near his door and dropped the boots on the floor below it, tossing his book onto the bed before stepping into his private lavatory. He used the facilities, and, when he finished washing his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. What he saw there hadn't changed in nearly four hundred years. A man in his early forties looked back at him. There were wrinkles, but nothing so pronounced as to call him elderly. The stubble his chin bore was salt and peppered and trimmed into a regal looking goatee- the same facial hair that he had worn when he'd been a noble, next in line for rulership, with his wife by his side. How she'd loved that same style of facial hair, making him promise never to shave it off, and, even after hundreds of years, he never had. His skin was pale, which was to be expected given his condition as well as the long hours that he spent indoors. All in all, his features looked respectable, almost identical to what he'd looked like when he'd performed the ritual that had preserved his life for so long, so why couldn't he sway her? Was she not his own? Not for the time, he looked closer and saw the tired slump of his shoulders, and the defeated sag of the bags under his eyes. Maybe those things were all she saw in him anymore. He looked desperate. He felt desperate.

With a heavy sigh, the wizard crawled into bed. He had nothing better to do today than try to sleep. Perhaps he would dream of her or a passing memory of years long since gone would renew the hope that he'd lost sometime in the last few years.

* * *

Weeks passed in the same manner with the wizard visiting the bakery every day and Arastine declining his advances. Winter turned into spring, and it was on one of those spring mornings when things changed. The wizard let himself into the bakery to find that Arastine was not at the front counter. It was not unusual, but the long wait for her to make her way back to the front was. When she made it to the door from the back room, she looked down immediately upon seeing him, trying to hide it more than likely, but he saw it.

Rage bubbled within him. How dare he touch her. She was his. He was not to harm her! The wizard took out his book, readying himself for a fight. He breathed out one heavy puff of air before threatening lowly. "Where is he?"

A single tear dropped from her good eye, the other too puffy and swollen to do the same. She moved around the counter to grab his hand, and dragged him into the back. He glanced around the room. He'd never been in this space before, and it looked like any other kitchen to him. There were all sorts of accoutrements back here that he'd never had the pleasure of learning to use given his history, and he felt himself become rather fascinated by them all, silently categorizing them for research later. For now, he had other things to attend to. He pushed what little hair was in the way out of her face so that he could get a better look at her eye and found that the swelling and bruising was more than likely aggravated by a fracture in her supraorbital arch. He frowned deeply, considering his options before finally settling on one.

He moved a hand to gently cradle either side of her face, forcing her to look at him with her one good eye. "Do I have your permission to cast a spell on you? To heal you?" He begged, fighting the emotion that tried to well up inside of him. She had to come first. She was most important right now. She sniffed painfully, and nodded just one stiff nod as another tear escaped her good eye. He opened his book, finding one of the spells in the back and glancing it over before muttering his Wish beneath his breath.

Moments later, the effects of the Regenerate spell began to take their effects on her. The first thing to go was the grizzly coloration of her eye followed by the swelling, and, finally, after several long and tense minutes, she looked back to normal. He grabbed her hands, squeezing them as tight as he dared. "Run away with me." The wizard pleaded. "Let me protect you."

"I can't." She mumbled, barely able to cling to her excuses any longer. Her hands pulled away from his, and she wrung her apron with them. "It was my fault. I did this to myself."

"Don't you let him poison your mind! You did not do this to yourself! He did! Didn't he?" He seethed, trying to reign in his volume, but only managing to make his voice croak instead. "Didn't he?" He asked again, resisting the urge to shake her for emphasis.

Tears began to fall from her now in earnest. "Dav, we've been… uh, trying to have a baby for a few seasons now. I found out a few tendays back that I was with child, and," Her voice broke a full blown sob wracking her whole body as she struggled to keep standing. "I lost it. This is my fault. I deserved it."

He pulled her into his chest, nearly crushing her to him as he held her in his first embrace for centuries. His eyes closed as he reveled in the feeling of her soft, pliable body in his arms. How he missed the feeling of her warm body melded against his. "This is not your fault." He muttered into her ear softly. "Tell me where he is, and I'll deal with him the way an abuser ought to be treated."

"No." She said firmly, and that's when he saw it. That face. The stubborn face that he'd never won a fight against. He hated that stupid face, but he knew in that moment that he'd already lost.

He nodded once, carefully extricating himself from her. Heaving a sigh, he looked at her with emotional eyes. "Please don't let him make you think that you deserve to be treated as anything less than. You are worthy. You deserve happiness, and to be loved." He stuck his hand in his pocket and withdrew a palm sized, smooth, round stone. He pushed it into her hands, hoping she knew what it was. "Here. Take this, and… contact me if you ever need help. If you need to use it, I'll meet you here- in the shop. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Good." He responded firmly before turning to walk out of the bakery.

The wizard stumbled out into the crisp spring morning, dazed by the cacophony all around him. How could the world keep turning when his had just ground to a sudden halt? How could she not see that her decision to stay hurt them both? Boots stomped through the streets, and he kept a quick pace all the way to his Fortress. The sun hadn't even made its way to the apex of the sky yet, but he was already home. He barged in, surely startling Donia, but heedless of her surprise, the wizard stormed his way up the tower to his private suite and slammed the door behind him. Once he was in the privacy of his own quarters, he cast Silence with nothing but a thought, and screamed himself hoarse. He screamed until his throat and lungs hurt. He screamed for himself, but he screamed mostly for her. She didn't deserve what her husband had done to her. Nobody deserved that sort of abuse. His anguish relieved, he let the Silence spell dissipate, falling to the floor in a heap of wild emotion and painful memories.

A short time later, a knock sounded at his door, and he heard the voice of his servant from behind the hefty wooden frame. "I've brought lunch, sir." She announced clearly before a minute long pause. When there was no response for he could think of none, she let herself into his quarters. When she saw him on the floor, she said nothing, but he could almost feel her frustration palpably in the air. He looked up at her helplessly, and he saw as she rolled her eyes at him. "Sir, if I may be so bold?"

The wizard looked at the stone floor beneath him, nodding darkly. He was ready for her to yell at him; he'd been unable to protect the most important thing left in his unnaturally long life. He deserved her ire. Donia toed him with a shoed foot, gaining his attention well enough to force him to look at her. "Get up off of the floor." She commanded brazenly, waving at him to move with a gesture of the plate she still held in her hand. The wizard looked at his servant like she'd grown two heads, but pulled himself off of the floor quickly, if reluctantly. He found the chair at his desk, and sat down heavily, taking the plate she offered in her hands with not even a thanks. He looked at the meal and swallowed thickly. He didn't think that he could eat much, if anything, right now. "I've worked for you for as many seasons as you have lived in the Wealdath forest, sir. During that time, I've seen you create this very castle from nothing but a thought, among many other feats of magic that I'll never fully understand, but, sir, in that time, I've also seen something else. Something downright miraculous, if you ask me.

"You see, I've had the distinct pleasure of watching this wretched ass of a man transform before my eyes. Where once he was proud and lonely, now, he is humbled- in love. I cannot pretend to guess what exactly has happened to bring all of this about, but I can see already that the change is for the better." She paused to let her point sink in before nodding solemnly. "I'll show myself out, sir."

The wizard was quiet as the servant began to step out of the room, but he stopped her as she began to shut the door. "Donia?" He barked, and the servant turned to look at him quietly. "Thank you."

She nodded, flashing him a kind smile. "You're welcome, sir."

Once the wizard was alone, he took out a crystal ball and his spell book, and he cast Scrying on Arastine, looking in on her and finding that she was still at the bakery. Of all of the places she could be, he was certain that the bakery was the safest. He sighed with relief until he saw a familiar man, her husband, let himself into the bakery. He greeted her softly, almost reverently as he apologized to her, stepping behind the counter without asking and roughly pulling her to him, pressing his body against hers. He whispered something that the wizard couldn't hear into the woman's ear, and she nodded into his chest. But, from the location of his Scrying sensor, the wizard could see her fear; her body was shaking, and her lips trembling. He pulled away from her and closed the window shades, turning the sign from Open to Closed, and locking the front door securely, checking it with a sharp tug to make sure that they wouldn't be interrupted. When he turned around to look at her, he looked like an animal ready to strike, and the wizard could hear her frightened whimper as the man roughly began to grab at her body beneath her clothing. Just as the Scrying spell was about to fade, he watched as the man bent her over the bakery counter, pulling her skirts up roughly whilst unbuckling his belt, a tear falling down her cheeks as she looked away from her husband.

The wizard closed his eyes, considering the possibility of casting Modify Memory on himself to rid himself of the memory of what he'd just witnessed. Why didn't she just leave? If she was afraid, he was more than capable of protecting her. Her husband didn't deserve her, and, for that matter, neither did he. But, he would at least treat her like she deserved- like a princess, which, technically speaking, she would be if she married him. All the wizard knew was that he would not force her hand. He would wait. For her, he would wait.

* * *

The wizard continued to Scry on the pastry chef periodically for several weeks to much the same result, and, soon, the days warmed and lengthened until it was summer once more. The month of Kythorn greeted him as he began his daily walk towards Mosstone, but so did a warmth in his pocket. He was confused for a moment until he remembered that he'd given her the brother to one of his Sending Stones after the incident during the spring.

His heart began to beat in double time in his chest, forcing adrenaline into his veins. He'd given the Sending Stone to her months ago in hopes that the next time he'd abused her, she would contact him, and he could whisk her away to safety. Of course, he'd been looking in on her ever since, and she'd never tried to use the stone. Not once. The fact that it was now morning and he was receiving a message from her did nothing to help his apprehension. For what reason would she finally call, and what state would he find her in? With a shaking hand, he brought the stone to his ear, listening to the message coming through from her end. Her voice was quiet and hoarse. She had been crying. "Dav." She muttered into the stone, and she must have been very close to it because he could hear her breaths, although they came out as sobs. "It happened again."

There was a long pause as his mind worked overtime, trying to figure out on his own exactly what 'it' was. Finally, he shook his head, knowing full well that she couldn't see the gesture. Dread filled him as he moved the stone to his mouth to speak. "What happened again?" He asked, gulping thickly, and feeling a lump form in his throat as he waited for a response.

"Um, the same thing that happened in the spring. Except…" And, now he could hear the wracking sobs as they came over the stone, each one more terrible than the last. He took a deep breath of his own in order to control his own reaction.

He frantically took out his spellbook and began to flip the pages until he came upon one that was labelled Teleport, but he didn't cast it yet. Instead, he spoke into the stone. "Except?"

"I- haven't told him yet." She sniffled. "I'm scared, Dav."

The wizard nodded solemnly. "Can you make it to the shop?"

"I don't know." She cried, her voice raising dangerously in pitch.

"Shh. It's okay." He soothed. "Take deep breaths. If you can't get there, I can find you, but you'll have to be ready to leave. My method of transportation isn't exactly subtle."

"Okay." She mumbled with a deep shuddering breath. "Just… give me a few minutes. I'll message you again."

When the sound on the other end of the sending stone disconnected, the man began to sprint as fast as his legs would carry him back towards his Fortress. Before he got too close, he cast knock in order to open the door from afar, and he shouted into the space within, hoping that Donia heard him. "It's happened! She's coming!"

He heard Donia shout something back, but he was already striding up the stairs to his quarters taking them two and three at a time. Once there, he quickly cast Scrying on Arastine, and found her to be flitting about a small bedroom grabbing things and shoving them into a small bag, which quickly became overly full. She glanced around before sighing, and stepping into a tiny bathroom. She locked the door behind her, and dug for the stone in her pocket. "Dav?" She asked.

He dropped concentration on his spell, and responded into his sending stone, "Are you ready?"

He already knew the answer.

"Yes." She responded. "You'll be here soon?"

"Before you know it." He answered, dropping his stone onto the bed, and casting Teleport. He arrived into the small space with a near-blinding flash of light, and she gasped as she looked up at him with surprise. He opened his arms for her, and she nearly crashed into him. He heard noises from outside of the door, and, so he quickly grabbed onto her and cast the spell once more, bringing her into the foyer of his Fortress. He was afraid to bring her directly into his living space. He didn't want to scare her any more than she already was.

He gently tossed his book onto a nearby table and cradled her face with his hands as he looked her over, trying to respect her personal space, but also needing to be sure that she was whole and okay. His eyes searched her own, and, finally, he spoke. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? Say the word and it is yours."

She sniffed, pulling back from him gently, and sitting in one of the nearby armchairs. "I… don't know what's wrong with me." She cried, tears falling from her eyes as she pulled her knees up into her chest, curling herself up into a ball. "We… well, he, mostly… wanted to have children, and we were so happy when we found out that I was pregnant, but it didn't stick. And, last time, he was just so angry… Thank you, Dav."

He knelt down in front of her, elated that he'd finally gotten her to leave the man that caused her so much pain. "You're welcome. Would you like me to cast the spell on you again? Do you think it will help?"

"I don't know." She shook her head in frustration. "Do you, uh, have a place for me to sleep? My- problem… woke me up in the middle of the night."

He breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment before he made a decision- one of the hardest he'd ever made, and, so, he picked her up and began to walk her to the tower adjacent to his own. He carried her all the way up the spiral staircase, and opened the door carefully by shifting her weight from one arm to the other briefly. He placed her gingerly on the bed, and moved to the fireplace to make sure that the flue was open. Although it was summer, the Fortress was drafty, and he didn't want her to get too cold. He checked that there were more logs nearby, and quickly cast Create Bonfire on the contents of the fireplace. He showed her the bathroom, and explained where to find himself and Donia if need be before he retreated to his own living space.

He made his way down the stairs, and found that Donia was waiting for him when he arrived there. She smiled at him conspiratorially before walking into the kitchen to begin preparations for dinner. A dinner for two.

It turned out that the wizard ate dinner by himself that night. Arastine had slept through the entire day, which allowed him to get his own much needed rest. He needed to restore his magical energies so that he could pay a visit to her husband that night. He intended to dole out some justice for the woman who deserved so much more than what she had gotten.

When night fell, the wizard dressed in his robes, arming himself with only spell components and his trusty book, packing a spare book and healing potions just in case. He doubted that he would need them. He checked in on Arastine who was still sleeping soundly, and gave instructions to Donia in case the woman woke up in his absence. Finally, he was ready to leave, and, with a flash, he was gone.

A flash of light marked his arrival in the small bathroom he'd rescued her from- the only part of her home that he knew. He took a moment to regard the tiny and dirt covered surroundings with a sneer; this was clearly not her doing. She'd always been a stickler for clean surroundings before, and he doubted that, of all things, standards of cleanliness would be the thing to change in this incarnation. He stepped to the door and cast dark Darkvision on himself before opening it. The door swung open to reveal a man laying in the bed that he'd Scryed upon earlier. His eyes were closed, but he looked tense, as if just on the cusp of wakefulness. The wizard pulled out his book, casting Geas with the instruction to stay still. This, of course, caused the man to wake, and the wizard's smile grew as the man squirmed, reeling back at the mental pain of his spell harming his mind.

"Good morning." The wizard said into the night. He waved a hand, and the charms that usually disguised his identity began to burn away, revealing his true form to the pathetic excuse for a human being that lay before him. Gone were the plump muscles and tanned skin, and, with each lick of harmless flame, a lighter pallor appeared along with muscles so frail and weak that he looked skeletal. The wizard was truly a shadow of his former self, preserved by only magic and the embrace of in undeath.

The wizard hefted his book on one arm. With how wretched his arms looked, it almost seemed like he would snap in two with the weight of the book. Instead, he pointed a single bony finger at the helpless man before him, and he said a word of power that made him sneer with elation, finally, he could have his retribution. "Pain."

The agonizing shouts of Arastine's former husband were like a symphony to his long dead ears, and the night passed quickly, only ending when her husband's life was also snuffed out. He sighed in relief. It was done. She was safe. She was free.

* * *

The wizard teleported back home, into his quarters and immediately replaced the spells that disguised his person again. He hadn't been without them for years, and he certainly wouldn't be without them now that Arastine could be his. He sighed with relief as he laid back down on the bed, tossing his book gently onto his bedside table with a practiced grace that spoke of his years on this plane. His eyes closed, ready to get even a short rest given how exhausted he was now. However, his eyes opened with a start when he heart two soft raps on his door. Those weren't the sharp, decisive knocks of Donia.

He sat up quickly, and called out, "Be right there." Quickly checking his reflection, he adjusted his clothing, and opened his door to greet her. "Good morning, Arastine."

She smiled shyly at him, a rosy hue colored her cheeks, and she looked very well rested for the first time in months. "Good morning, Dav." She responded to his greeting, stepping forward just a bit, but not actually entering his room. She regarded him with her gaze for a moment before shivers ran up and down her spine. He could actually see her body respond to the sensation, and he moved to get her one of his blankets to drape around her slight frame, afraid that she was catching too much cold in his drafty, yet mighty, Fortress. She nodded her thanks as she took the blanket and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, holding it in place with her left hand. Then, her eyes met his own in something akin to a glare. She hummed a moment before finally working up the nerve to speak once more. "We… need to talk."

The wizard nodded, stepping back and holding the door open for her to enter, and, once she had done so, he carefully shut the door behind her. She gazed around his room in something akin to wonder, spending quite a bit of time looking at the different bits and baubles that were scattered about. Interestingly enough, all of the ones she paid attention to were magical. He stepped over towards his bed, but he did not sit down, instead, waiting for her to do so first. He didn't want to accidentally do anything that made her uncomfortable; he was too afraid that he would do something to scare her off after he'd finally gotten her back. Finally, she made her way back towards him, satisfied by her inspection of the various items she'd found, and she stopped at his side. "Would you care to sit?" He asked, and she nodded.

Sitting comfortably together on the mattress, she sighed, looking up at the ceiling as her eyes blinked back tears that she would not allow to fall. "Dav, I know what you did last night." Her voice wavered dangerously, as if about to break.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He responded calmly, lying through his teeth. "I've been here all night."

"Don't lie to me." She grumbled, looking at him fiercely. "I- could sense it. I know."

He looked at her with a level gaze, trying to sense something about her that wasn't there. She wasn't magical, but he still felt that ache. The ache that had always been there. "Alright," He said. "And, if I were to indicate that you were correct, what would you do about it?"

"I- don't know… I feel, well, relieved mostly." She answered. "I don't think that I should feel that way, but it's how I feel."

A long silence fell over the two, neither meeting the other's gaze, and neither willing to break the silence for easily ten minutes. Finally, Arastine looked up at Davlanan. "I have so many questions and so few answers." She mumbled quietly, her voice still watery and emotional.

"I'll do my best to answer the ones that I can." He responded slowly, turning to look at her more fully.

"Okay." She nodded solemnly, before she pushed the blanket off of her shoulders.

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, and the wizard scrambled to hold her fingers in place. "Um, Arastine, as interested as I am in your current thought process, are you sure?"

Her bell like laughter rang out, a sweet symphony to his ears as her fingers continued to undo her buttons. One hand held her clothing shut firmly while the other did its work. "No, Dav. Although, I admire your candor, I am not ready for that just yet. You see, I have had a mystery… a secret, even to myself, for my entire life, and not a single person has been able to figure out what it is. I thought that, maybe, just maybe, a magical man like yourself might have some information about it."

"And, this… mystery requires you to disrobe?" He asked, rather flustered at the thought of seeing her bare body before him for the first time in centuries. His body yearned for hers, and he was still only a man.

"Yes, Dav. Now, settle down, you won't see anything terribly important." She deadpanned as her hand finished its work. Then, she carefully parted her blouse, revealing a shimmering, blackish red gem which was embedded directly into her chest, just above where her heart ought to be.

He let in a shuddering gasp. He hadn't seen that gem since his wife had passed on, thinking that it had been lost forever, but not destroyed given his continued life. "Where did you get that?" He breathed, voice calm and humbled- so humbled. This was magic beyond his understanding, beyond his power.

She looked at him with a level gaze. "So, you know what it is?" She asked, threatening to close her shirt, but he gently pushed her hands back into their original places.

"Yes." He responded, absolutely aghast at what he was seeing.

"So?" She asked with a mix of irritation and curiosity. "What is it?"

The wizard shook his head side to side in bafflement, trying desperately to wrap his head around how this had happened. He wasn't sure if it was even real. He cleared his throat. "Uh, this is… my phylactery."

She looked at him a bit fearfully, but also with confusion. She slowly closed her blouse now, not buttoning it, but feeling rather modest. "What if- What if I don't know what that is?"

He nodded, a somber mood taking over his mind. He was almost certain that, if she knew the truth, if he told her, she would leave. She deserved better than him, after all. She always had. "You're right. There'll be a lot of questions that I need to answer for you, but, for starters, this is a vessel, which I created centuries ago to contain my immortal soul."

"I'm… not sure what this means." She finally said after processing his words. "Why would I have it?"

He looked at her unwaveringly. He would tell her the truth, and she would in all likelihood run. She would leave, and he would let her. "Because, my soul has always been yours from the start, Arastine, in this incarnation and the last."

"Dav?" She asked with tears in her eyes.

"Yes?" He asked, grateful that she hadn't run yet, and, still, so very afraid that she would soon.

She took in a shuddering breath. "I have one last question. No, two."

"Ask me anything, and I'll answer." He responded without hesitation. His stomach was tightly clenched. The questions couldn't be that difficult to answer.

"Is this why you've always looked different to me?" She asked, gesturing towards the phylactery, which was covered up beneath her garments. "Does it let me see your magic?"

He nodded once, only guessing what she meant. "I use magic to hide what I am, but, if you see anything besides a middle aged man, then, yes. I suppose it is."

"How long has it been since you last had this?" She asked finally, placing one hand over her breast, beneath which his very soul resided.

"More than three centuries." He answered, but, now, he too had a question. "Arastine?"

She looked at him in wonder, emotions flitting across her face as quickly as her thoughts turned within her mind. "Yes?"

"Are you going to run, now?" He asked, honestly prepared to let her go. To be alone forevermore.

"No." She answered honestly, as she pulled him close to her in an embrace.

Finally. She was his.


End file.
